


The one that mattered

by foxybadger42



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxybadger42/pseuds/foxybadger42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran finds revenge by going after the person that mattered the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one that mattered

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is mine. G. Lestrade belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Kitty Riley to the BBC. No profits are being made. Written just for fun.

He burst through the door to the bedroom, not having to look further as he saw her on the bed. Blood had stained the flower-pattered duvet and pillow, but he had more eye for who laid in the middle of the bed.

She was gasping, her eyes wide as she saw him, one hand reaching for him.

A kitchen knife deeply buried in her stomach.

'Molly,' he murmured, his vocal cords gone weak, her name coming out as a low mutter as she climbed onto the bed. She was gasping and crying, but somehow seemed happy to see him. He held her head and kissed her.

'Jesus Christ,' he heard behind him, as John had finally reached the bedroom. The doctor got onto the bed as well, grabbing a pillow and tearing the case off. He slowly removed the knife and pressed the cloth against her stomach.

'Put pressure on this,' he said as he grabbed Greg's right hand and forced him to press it against her stomach. 'I'm calling an ambulance.'

But while Greg obeyed and kept his hand firmly on her stomach, he was hardly aware of what was going on and John phoning for an ambulance. His eyes were fixed on her, and hers on his. She seemed to have calmed down a bit now that they were here, but she was still trembling and whimpering with shock and pain.

'Everthing will be alright,' he promised her, talking softly to her, his free hand behind her head, his thumb only just able to reach for her cheek to softly stroke it. 'It will be alright.'

Her lips trembled, but she forced out a smile, her hand tightly grasping his shirt. She opened her mouth, and with a weak voice spoke: ‘C-cold.’

'John,' he spoke as he turned to look at the doctor who had just hung up his phone, and placed his hand over Greg's to make sure there was enough pressure on her wound. 'She — she says she'd cold.'

'Hang in there, Molly,' John said as he leaned closer. 'Hang in there — it's going to be fine.'

She nodded, but continued to tremble, either from the shock or cold. Greg wondered if they could do something about her being cold, but knew that keeping the bleeding at bay was more important here.

With John’s secure hand on her stomach, he removed his, brushing the hairs out of her face and cupping her cheek.

'You're going to be fine, Molls.'

But then she shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. She seemed to have more control over her voice now.

'The — the b-baby.'

'First you — then we'll see about the baby, okay?'

She whimpered, thick tears streaming down her temples as she nodded, sniffing loudly as she spoke again.

'I — I'm so cold — G-Greg,'

'You'll be warm soon enough,' he promised her, and for the first time, he felt his own voice break, brushing his hand over her forehead. 'You'll be fine — just hang on.'

'Greg,' John suddenly spoke and Greg turned to look at him. The man's face had drained of all its colour. 'She — she's dying. She's lost a lot of blood.'

Greg shook his head, looking back at Molly, cold panic filling his veins.

'Hold on, Molls — please. H-Hold on,' he stammered, as he started to cry as well. They still had a chance — if the paramedics arrived now, she would make it!

But the paramedics didn’t arrive. They could hear the sirens in the distance, but it was still far away, and five floors down on street level.

'Come on, Molls — you'll make it.'

But she let out one whimper, and was still all of a sudden, her eyes still wide open as they stared at him. The hand that had been gripping at his shirt began to fall down, but he grabbed it just in time to hold it, the coldness of her skin like ice against his sweating palms.

Molly — p-please!’ he tried, but no answer came. She was gone.

John sat back, rubbing his mouth, not caring he was smearing blood everywhere. There was nothing he could do — reanimating someone that had lost so many pints of blood was a lost cause. The blood couldn’t circulate any more after all.

'Jo-John — please! He-help her!' Greg pleaded, but John shook his head, placing his hand on Greg's shoulder.

'I — I can't. She's — she's gone.'

He couldn’t believe it. Looking back at her lifeless body, her hand still in his, his other holding her head — it couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening. They were going to get married. She was pregnant. They would have a family soon. This couldn’t be the end of it!

But as she laid there, still and silent, her eyes looking into his own but not seeing any more, he realised that. once again, he had lost the love of his life.


End file.
